Francis
=Appearance= Francis LeMond stands nearly a head shorter than the average Aquilonian. Her green eyes are filled with a lustful madness, to catch their gaze is to gain the ire of a madwoman. Her blonde hair would be beautiful, if not for it's unkempt state. Matted and full of twigs and grime, Francis appears more the frenzied berserker than a woman of Aquilonia. =Personality= Francis is willing to do absolutely anything to get what she wants be it murder, sex, deception, or any of a hundred other depraved actions. Quick to anger, she has no qualms about killing innocent people, especially not those that her demon has marked. The demon's constant whispering in her ears have driven Francis quite insane, so her actions are quite often terribly irrational. She will often not do anything unless it directly benefits her personally and she goes out of her way to quash what appears to her to be young love. Francis' weapon of choice is any kind of blunt object that makes a sickening crunch and squishy noise upon impact. =History= The day that Francis came to know her demon is a day she will never forget. She was nineteen years old and madly in love with a handsome young Aquilonian named Jericho, however there seemed to be absolutely nothing she could do to get his attention. She would deliver cakes and breads to his doorstep only to meet his mother, who would promise to give them to him. After nearly a year of failure Francis finally broke down. She lay on her cot for days, wracked with sobs, unable to stop the flow of tears. After a week of near-starvation she began to hear things. Whispers. In her head. Out of the din a voice rose up, promising her that if she followed it's instructions Jericho would be hers. The voice required a certain type of herb, a lock of her hair, and the blood of Jericho's mother. The herbs and hair were easy enough, but the blood of Jericho's mother was something else entirely. Francis was not a killer, but she could think of no other way to go about the task. One day while Jericho was at the smithy where he was apprenticed, Francis went to his house with a fresh loaf of bread for him, again to be greeted by his mother. What the older woman didn't see, however, was the plank of wood that came at speed from Francis' right arm to the woman's crown. She fell in one blow. Under normal circumstances what she had just done would have mortified Francis, but she was mad with lust for Jericho. She dragged the old woman to the woods and hung her upside down from a tree. There she slit her throat to bleed her. All of the blood was necessary, the voice said. That night Francis boiled the herbs, hair and blood in a cauldron until the mixture was no longer blood red but a colorless liquid as clear as glass. This she poured into a jeweled flask the voice had told her she could find buried under some rocks near her location. The next evening she again went to Jericho's house, potion in hand. When she knocked on the door the man who answered had a hollow look in his eyes. He slowly and sadly told her that his mother had disappeared and he had no idea where she was. Francis pointed out that he must be thirsty, and gave him the flask of potion. He took it thankfully and downed the brew in one gulp. The effect was nearly instantaneous. Jericho's eyes grew milky and blank, and all of the muscles in his face seemed relaxed. He then turned to Francis with a great smile on his face and stared at her and professed his never ending love for her. Finally, Francis was happy. She moved in with him immediately, and was deliriously happy for the first time she could remember in a long time. She had the man she loved and a home. But it wasn't to last. Jericho no longer smiled, or laughed, or cried, or became angry of his own accord. He was a hollow shell of the man he once was and as Francis realized this she once again fell into the pit of her despair. The voice in her head told her it was a pity to let him go on like this, and if she loved him she would let him go. Between sobs she silently nodded her head in agreement. She picked up a plank of wood and smashed in the side of Jericho's once-handsome face. Francis was now completely broken. In madness she ran out of the house and into the woods, from where she would not return for quite some time. When she did reemerge, she would be a different person. A madness filled her eyes. Her blonde hair was dirty and unkempt. She cared no longer for love or the wishes of others, only her own personal gain and the wishes of the demon whose voice she could not escape. When she emerged from the woods, nearly naked from the thorns and tree branches having torn her clothes from her and wielding a tree branch as a mace which had become her favored weapon, the people of the town she came upon thought her mad and rightly so. They quickly subdued and bound her. She was sold to a Stygian slaver and sent aboard a boat to Khemi. The last thing she remembered is waking up on a beach near the pirate city of Tortage. With no memory of her past except for a burning hatred of humanity and a devil's voice in her head, she is ready to make her way in the world of Hyboria.